Airborne: The Combat Story of Ed Shames of Easy Company

By Ian Gardner and Ed Shames

The engrossing account of one of World War II's legendary figures.

A member of the legendary Band of Brothers, Ed Shames was involved in some of the most important battles of World War II. His incredible combat record includes parachuting into Normandy on D-Day, and service during Operation Market Garden, at Bastogne and in Germany itself.

Shames' own words and recollections fuel a searing account that gives a soldier's glimpse into the ferocity of the fighting on the ground and the close fellowship that developed between the men in Easy Company. The first member of the 101st Airborne Division to enter Dachau concentration camp, just days after its liberation, Shames ended the war in the bombed out shell of Hitler's Eagles Nest, surrounded by his comrades in arms.

Written by the author of the critically acclaimed Tonight We Die As Men, this is the phenomenal story
of a remarkable young lieutenant during World War II, from training at Toccoa, Georgia right through to the collapse of the Third Reich.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Apr 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781472813435

Ian Gardner

Ian Gardner served for five years in Support Company, 10th Battalion, The Parachute Regiment. Always enthusiastic about military history, several years after leaving 10 Para Ian became interested in World War II US Paratroopers. After a visit to Normandy in 2000 he decided to focus on the 3rd Battalion of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, which led to the critically acclaimed trilogy Tonight We Die As Men, Deliver Us From Darkness and No Victory in Valhalla. He is also the author of Airborne: The Combat Biography of Ed Shames of Easy Company. He is married with two grown-up children and lives near Aldershot in Hampshire.

Book preview

1

TAKE THE A TRAIN

December 7, 1941: The rich vibe of Duke Ellington and his orchestra was suddenly interrupted as a sketchy news flash filtered across the early afternoon airwaves. Shocked by the unfolding bulletin, Ed Shames and his friends Elmer Trant and Melvin Dawley moved closer to the radio. On Sunday when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Elmer, Melvin and I were sharing a room at the Laurentian Hotel in Hamilton, Ontario. The preemptive assault conducted by Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was intended to keep the US Pacific Fleet from impacting on forthcoming Japanese combat operations in Southeast Asia against British, Dutch and US forces on the Philippines. The Japanese air strike sank several important ships and caused nearly 3,700 casualties. The following day, President Franklin D. Roosevelt proclaimed December 7, 1941, as a date, which will live in infamy, and the US National Congress proceeded to declare war against Japan.

A few months before the attack, we were happy-go-lucky 19-year-olds studying to become naval engineers at the Steam Engineering School in Norfolk, Virginia. Politically aware and determined to do our bit in the war, we were still too young for the peacetime American military. However, the minimum age for the Royal Canadian Air Force was 18, and as they were recruiting potential officer cadets to train as fighter pilots, we decided to give it a go.

Melvin’s father was a very successful businessman and we borrowed his car to drive up to Hamilton for our assessments. Before leaving Norfolk, we made a pledge to each other that it would be all or none. Over the next five days the Canadians put us through a series of aptitude tests and stringent medicals. At the end of the week, we were shocked when Elmer was rejected after being diagnosed with a heart murmur. However, Melvin and I were accepted and given 10 days to sign the enlistment papers. Elmer wanted us to go ahead, but we had a deal and that was all there was to it. We went back to the Laurentian Hotel and decided to spend the weekend out on the town. Of course, December 7th was the day that everything changed, and after the Japanese strike we packed our things and returned to Virginia.

Ed Shames’ war was about to begin.

Edward David Shames was born on June 13, 1922 in Virginia Beach, Virginia:

I was the youngest and preceded by sisters Anna and Simmie, and brother George [aged two, six, and eight respectively at the time of Ed’s birth]. My father David had studied engineering and fought as an infantryman in World War I. Dad was smart and in the early years worked hard to build up a small portfolio of properties and with my mother Sadie, established Shames Provisions, a rural country store situated along Virginia Beach Boulevard. In 1927, Dad died suddenly from pneumonia – he was only 42. Assisted by her youngest brother Ben, Mom took over and successfully kept the store going. During the Great Depression, things went from bad to worse, forcing Mom to sell off Dad’s properties at a ridiculously reduced price. Thankfully, we lived in the flat above the store. I attended the Henry Clay Elementary School and much of my spare time was spent helping out in the store. One of the pupils, Clifford Irby, was two years older and not only bullied me, but many other younger kids. One morning while walking to school, I picked up a length of lead pipe. During break, Irby cornered me in the toilets and I hit him with the metal cosh and split his head wide open. Afterwards we became great friends but I think the incident showed me that aggression could be channeled and controlled if and when necessary.

By the time I turned 11, I had a job selling magazines and saved enough to purchase a small rowing boat to go fishing in Chesapeake Bay. My dad left a pair of Smith & Wesson pistols that I’d use regularly to shoot targets in the local woods. Of course my mother knew nothing about it. When, as a teenager, I began to get interested in hiking my mom gave me a set of local maps and a compass for my birthday, which kick-started my lifelong fascination for topography. Mother always made sure that we had food and even sometimes wine on the table and decent clothes to wear. When my brother George asked if he could attend the Virginia Polytechnic Institute Military School, despite the costs involved, Mom agreed without hesitation. The price of uniform, trunk and school fees was well over $100 and I remember she paid with gold coins that my dad had left. It was then she told me about the golden rule – He who has the gold, rules! I’ve never forgotten it. George graduated in the 1930s and decided to pursue a career as an engineering officer in the Navy. Eventually he was posted to run the main refrigeration plant at Norfolk Naval Base and never went overseas.

Following the attack on Pearl Harbor it was only a matter of time before Ed would join his brother in uniform and he was determined to be at the sharp end of the war.

Four or five months after returning from Canada, Ed read in a national magazine that the Army Operations Center (AOC) at Fort Monroe had announced the creation of a specialist volunteer parachute unit. After Pearl Harbor, the Japanese had successfully invaded the Philippines and American fortitude appeared to be rapidly declining. Senior members of the War Department’s civil service had the unprecedented idea of creating a super unit recruited directly from the civilian population. The civil servants realized the public relations value of such a regiment, especially one drawn from the general public rather than the regular army. It was correctly assumed that the principle of civilian volunteers would raise the country’s morale.

As Monroe was only a few miles away, I went over to their recruiting office seeking further information. The 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment was looking for volunteers, and only the best and brightest people need apply. Plus a qualified parachutist would earn an extra $50 a month! After reading through the glossy brochures, I decided to put my name down as a potential recruit. The minimum age was 21, but as I still had eleven months to go, written permission was needed from my mother, who initially wasn’t keen to sign – although eventually after much cajoling from me she agreed.

By late August 1942, Shames received his joining instructions and was ordered to attend the US Army Reception Center at Camp Lee, Petersburg, Virginia.

Camp Lee was about 75 miles from Norfolk and there were hundreds of kids from Virginia, Maryland and North Carolina. After being processed I was put on a troop train with Charles Cartwright, an ex-fireman, who lived in Norfolk on Marshall Avenue. The regular service ran from New York to New Orleans and was packed with young men, all scheduled for different stops along the way. Our destination was a small town in northeast Georgia named Toccoa and when Cartwright noted it was 6am we knew we didn’t have much further to go. No more than a whistle stop, the station had seen more activity in the last four weeks than the previous ten years.

Toccoa would be home for Shames, Cartwright and other 506th hopefuls for the forthcoming months.

Getting off the train, I heard a door slam behind me and this dark-haired guy with large ears walked over and introduced himself: I’m George Retan. How are you doing? Up until that moment we hadn’t realized that there was anyone else on our train bound for Toccoa. Four years older than me, George, who was from Syracuse, seemed very self-confident and sharp. We shook hands and were still laughing as a sergeant strutted over and instructed us to follow him to a waiting truck.

Camp Toccoa was 5 miles outside town, nestling beneath the powerful shadow of Currahee Mountain. After passing through the front gate and turning right, the vehicle followed the road to an enormous grass parade ground. In the corner closest to the camp was a collection of tents known as W Company. Due to recent heavy rainfall the ground was a sea of thick, red mud. Retan, Cartwright and Shames were allocated temporary bed spaces. After a cold damp night, Reveille was something to behold as dozens of shivering figures, some still wrapped in blankets, tried to carefully negotiate their way through the ankle-deep slush for roll call.

Because of the mud, we soon learned that W Company also had another title – Cow Company. After our names had been checked we underwent a thorough medical examination. A history of broken bones was enough to cause exclusion, as was color blindness or poor eyesight. Mental ability was also considered important, and to pass we had to have a qualifying score equal to, or surpassing, that for Officer Candidate School (OCS).

I was passed A1 fit and given service number 13117836, and the lowly rank of private. As for Retan, when they found out he’d attended one of the best private preparatory schools in the States, Fork Union Military Academy, he was immediately promoted to acting sergeant! One of the guys in my tent, Joe Madona, had come in the day before. Maybe because of the intense overcrowding, Madona managed to rub me up the wrong way. Joe was a short, stocky, Italian American from Winthrop, Massachusetts, so not only a damn Yankee but also an I-ty and there’s me, a Jew southerner!

During the thankfully short stay in Cow Company, Shames and the others were issued their basic equipment and clothing. The following morning one of the regular army cadre NCOs introduced Ed and his new friends to the mountain. The feature marked the western edge of the Blue Ridge Range and over the next 13 weeks would come to symbolize the 506th PIR.

The cadre were, for the most part, from the 82nd Airborne, and temporarily attached as platoon sergeants or squad leaders. It was their job to teach us civilians every aspect of military life including physical training [PT].

Ed’s group stood in formation on the parade ground as it was addressed by one of the instructors, Gentlemen, today we are going to put your fitness to the test… You see that lump of rock? It’s called ‘Currahee,’ Native American for ‘Stands Alone.’ The beast is 1,753 feet high and the summit trail approximately 3 miles long. Any of you who do not make the 6-mile round trip within 1 hour and 10 minutes will fail and be immediately reassigned to a non-airborne outfit. Do you understand me? Shames looked across at Retan as the squad replied as one: Yes, Staff Sergeant! Wearing coveralls and brand-new ankle boots the men doubled past a long row of buildings belonging to Regimental Headquarters toward the start line. Initially it did not seem that difficult, but as the 20ft-wide dirt road began to snake its way upwards the pace increased, and Ed’s legs started to burn. At that point some people were already dropping back. About 10 minutes later, as the track approached a rocky outcrop close to the peak it became much steeper and turned sharply before zigzagging to a wooden lookout tower on the summit. Without taking a moment to catch his breath, Shames touched the triangulation point and was on his way back down. Legs and feet pulsing in pain, he was now struggling to keep up, and much to Ed’s surprise, Madona started shouting encouragement. Passing several stragglers, Retan dropped back, came alongside and delivered a short pep talk as well.

We all made it back within the required time but it was a daunting glimpse of what might lay ahead. I thanked Joe for his help and inquired how he made the run look so easy. It turned out that he’d been active in baseball and athletics at high school and was still a very keen sportsman.

A day or so later, Cartwright was sent to the Machine Gun Platoon, while Retan, Shorty Madona and myself were assigned to 1st Squad, 3rd Platoon, Item Company, the very last platoon from 3rd Battalion to be formed.

Toccoa would be where Ed learned how to take orders, and in the process discover he could go much further and do much more than he ever imagined possible. The 506th had originally expected around 2,800 people but by the time the course began there were almost 7,000 recruits. The vastly overmanned regiment was divided into three battalions. Each had four companies, and 3rd Battalion’s were designated HQ, George, How and Item, under overall command of 27-year-old Major Robert Lee Wolverton.

At the time First Lieutenant Charles Shettle was in charge of Item or I Company with the superb Second Lieutenant John Kiley as his executive officer (XO) and cadre man Paul Garrison, as first sergeant. Interestingly, Garrison was a local from Toccoa. Their platoon leader was Second Lieutenant Fred Anderson from Charlotte, North Carolina. Stocky, round faced, and just under 6ft tall, Anderson liked a drink, and loved to tease between telling jokes and delivering endless wise cracks. Although he did not suffer fools, Andy was approachable and always on hand to help with any personal issues. He would prove to be an invaluable comrade-in-arms once the 506th landed in Europe.

Forged from Steel

Officially activated on July 20, 1942, the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment was the brainchild of 37-year-old Colonel Robert Frederick Sink. A southern boy from Lexington, North Carolina, Sink was a graduate of the prestigious West Point Military Academy and had been an early pioneer of parachute tactics and organization. With great energy and determination, Sink, known as the Fox, was about to put into effect one of the most grueling training regimes ever experienced by any World War II American military unit. But along with rigor came fairness and concern. No problem was too small for his attention. He believed in discipline and order but was not strictly spit and polish. The Fox was also a family man and lived locally with his pregnant wife Margaret and their daughters Margaret (7) and Mary (10), playfully known as Flip and Petey. Back in North Carolina, Bob Sink’s father Fred was active in state politics and ran a local daily newspaper, The Dispatch, which over the next three years would report every move made by the colonel and the 506th PIR.

The basic recruit accommodation at Toccoa, formerly known as Camp Toombs, was constructed around a grid system and comprised 12 neat rows of single-story wooden huts, each row serviced by its own mess hall. Subdivided into four distinct blocks, the 3rd Battalion area consisted of approximately 36 tarpaper barracks with dedicated latrine and ablutions facilities. Ed, Joe Madona and George Retan were assigned to one of the busy barrack rooms along with Privates Joe Gorenc, Jim Japhet and Don Ross. After Reveille the following morning the men formed up outside on the company street for roll call.

Everything we did from now on was done at the double, even going to our mess, which incidentally had a slogan pinned to the wall stating: TAKE WHAT YOU WANT – EAT WHAT YOU TAKE.

During the first week, following breakfast, the cadre instructor for Ed’s squad, Sergeant Wojtowicz, took the men for calisthenics, drill and PT over on the nearby athletics field situated beyond the parade ground in a shallow valley. The vast sandy oblong-shaped training area was dotted with a variety of apparatus including pull-up bars, 40ft-high scramble net tower and mock-up aircraft fuselages. Closer to the parade ground, the 506th had built a parachute school complete with an outdoor exit trainer, flight swings and a series of 10ft wooden ramps from which to practice parachute landing falls (PLFs).

A wide drainage channel ran along one side of the athletics field. Built into the steep hill adjacent to the creek was a bone-shattering obstacle course with both the start and finish points straddling the brackish water. Fenced on both sides like a racetrack, Colonel Sink’s terrifying folly ran through pine woods up and down the hillside and featured amongst its many sadistic creations a 12ft-high log wall and 20ft-high jump platform.

Like the mountain, we were expected to run the torturous course at least three or four times a week. In between, we embarked on a series of 20-mile route marches coupled with fieldcraft lessons and combat training. Hundreds of people washed out during the first few weeks. The cadre closely monitored our performance and any man who couldn’t match up to the stiffening criteria was sent packing. Sink made a bet with one of his old classmates from West Point, who then arrived with a platoon of Marines intent on showing us civilians how quickly the professionals could lick the assault course. But despite the obvious bravado, they failed to complete, saying certain aspects were just too risky for them to attempt before sheepishly returning to Paris Island to rebuild their wounded pride.

I did my best to avoid the more mundane things like kitchen duty or KP but occasionally got caught for general company duties that the army called Charge of Quarters (CQ). During one particular CQ, Lieutenant Shettle instructed me to collect a letter from Regimental Headquarters which overlooked the parade ground.

As Ed entered the building, he snapped a quick salute at Sink’s executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Charles Chase, who simply nodded and smiled as he passed by. Also Point trained, Charlie was Sink’s polar opposite. Steady and cool, Chase was a teetotaler and came from an old established family in New Hampshire. Softly spoken, his speech was measured, unemotional but impeccable, the sign of a true Connecticut Yankee.

The envelope had already been opened by Sink, who had written in large letters across the front, Requires your immediate attention! Being curious, I looked inside and was surprised to read that it was a final demand for payment from a debt collection agency in Baltimore. Upon seeing the open envelope Shettle, who had a mean streak, became angry: Did you open this – did you read this, Shames? Standing at attention, I denied everything. Nothing more was said but from that moment, Shettle started to single me out for any trivial misdemeanor or infraction.

As the weather began to improve, the large ventilation grille above the front door of Ed’s hut proved woefully inadequate against the heat of a late Georgian summer. One particular evening after a few cups of White Lightning, Don Ross picked up a trumpet that belonged to another soldier. Originating from San Francisco, 20-year-old Ross had a talent for the trombone but more importantly, the bugle, having played both instruments throughout his teenage years. Ed was spellbound by Don’s skill and after several bugle-style renditions mischievously encouraged his friend to step outside and blow Reveille with all the power and finesse he could muster. Although it was well after dark the entire camp sprang into life as people started forming up on their respective company streets!

In fits of laughter, we dashed inside as Sink’s voice angrily crackled across the loudspeaker system. Whoever blew that bugle, I want him found and brought to my office immediately.

Of course Sink never discovered who it was and the event was soon forgotten as summer quickly passed into fall.

Running in formation, I Company was now completing Currahee in less than 50 minutes. The entire regiment was blossoming into Sink’s vision with every soldier now willing to take on any challenge firm in the belief that he would overcome it. To show off the regiment’s physical prowess, during a Saturday morning visit by the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (AAA Program) the Fox ordered his men to wear swimming trunks and jump boots before running the mountain in platoon order.

But it was not all toil and sweat. Some, like First Sergeant Garrison, got married with full military tradition. Others went on pass to Toccoa and Gainesville or spent off-duty hours in the roadside diners that dotted the area around the camp.

We were getting about three weekend passes a month to Atlanta. Jim Japhet, whose family were wealthy cattle people from Texas, was used to nice things, and always insisted that we stay at the Piedmont Hotel. Of course this four-star palace was way above what Madona and I could afford but Jim always generously picked up the tab. I mean we were used to paying just over a dollar for an evening meal from the Wagon Wheel Bar outside of camp and at that time a steak dinner at the Piedmont cost around $10! As a private, I was earning $50 a month and after deductions such as laundry, PX [postal exchange] and insurance, took home around $20. Shorty [Madona] was a habitual gambler and within 15 minutes of being paid was usually broke, after being fleeced by Barron Dueber, our company communications sergeant from Los Angeles. Not surprisingly, he never approached Jim Japhet for money, but the rest of us were always bailing him out.

Subsequently, Madona and Shames started a shoe-shine business. On an average Friday night the two friends made about $12 each, polishing jump boots for those destined for weekend furlough. Weeks of 12-hour days were spent on dry firing and drills, designed to familiarize the men with their individual weapon, the M1 Garand Rifle. Intercompany rivalry was high and so was the expectation that each platoon would vie to produce the largest number of sharpshooters and marksman. Only the week before, 1st Battalion had set a stratospheric standard during their Skill at Arms contest at the nearby Camp Croft range and 3rd Battalion were not going to be outdone.

Major Wolverton promised three-day passes for every man who scored expert and then decided that his soldiers would march at least 30 miles with full combat load across the state line into South Carolina to the Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) ranges at Clemson University. Third Battalion, less the MG Platoon, spent one week at Clemson where some of the previously parachute-qualified officers and NCOs made a display jump in front of the cadets.

The week at Clemson was a huge deal for us and despite achieving expert on the M1, because our overall score was slightly less than 100 percent, Don, Shorty and myself were reassigned to crew a .30 cal machine gun in 3rd Squad. While acting as a spotter for some of the other recruits, Andy Anderson noticed that I was able to pinpoint a strike at 700 yards with the naked eye. As a consequence he appointed me gunner, Shorty my assistant and Don our ammo carrier.

The return march on Sunday October 24, commenced at 1900hrs, took 18 hours to complete and covered a distance of 49 miles. For the first few miles everyone chatted and laughed as they marched, but as it got dark and the hours passed, the battalion knuckled down into silence and hunger as the distance gradually began to unravel.

Bizarrely, around this time, when he heard we’d nicknamed him The Red Death (because of his permanently rosy complexion), Shettle interviewed every man in the company to ascertain why he was so unpopular. When it came to my turn he chewed me out for not wearing my stripe after being promoted to first gunner on the MG. To be honest Shettle did a passable job but it was still a very strange thing for an officer to do. Just to spite him, I never did sew on my stripe, which constantly needled good old Charlie every time he saw me!

Throughout October and November, most of the officers and some of the cadre were put through their paces on the mock-up fuselages, 34ft-high outdoor exit trainer, flight swings and 10ft jump platforms. The apparatus had been specifically designed and built to prepare and condition the recruits for the Parachute School at Fort Benning. The exit trainer filled everyone with a deep sense of dread. Each candidate was expected to hook the strap of his harness onto a steel zip wire before leaping through the open door and sliding some 250 yards to the ground. Failing to achieve a good push out meant a straight drop of around 20ft whereupon a potential smooth descent would be violently interrupted by the harness pulling tightly around the crotch!

By the end of November the last few officers completed parachute-packing and ground-training courses and were driven out to a nearby airport maintained by the LeTourneau Company, who manufactured earthmoving equipment. The first jump onto Dicks Hill drop zone (DZ) went well, although the other four had to be postponed for a few days due to bad weather. Afterwards a Prop Blast party was held in the Officers’ Mess, where each newly qualified parachutist was required to consume a concoction of alcohol from the nose hub of a C-47 while his colleagues shouted One thousand, two thousand, three thousand...

Meanwhile Ed Shames and the rest of his company were going through an enhanced specialist program that included parachute ground training, courses in signals and demolition, basic hand-to-hand combat and endless lectures, as well as the usual fitness regime of mountain and obstacle course.

During this phase our barracks were emptying at an alarming rate as hundreds more dropped out either through injury or lack of moral fiber. Toward the end of our time at Toccoa those of us who survived uninjured were running certain sections of the obstacle course with full field pack in under 4 minutes! As the first phase drew to a close and the weather started to get colder we anxiously began looking forward to jump school. But that would quite literally be a walk in the park compared to what was about to happen next.

By early December, the regiment received its movement orders for Fort Benning, and in doing so became the first unit ever to go through the jump school as one complete organization. After Major Billy Turner and 1st Battalion had departed by train, Robert Strayer requested permission from Colonel Sink to march 2nd Battalion, accompanied by half of the regiment’s Medical Detachment to the railway station in downtown Atlanta. The 2nd Battalion group, numbering 586 men, set off from Toccoa on Tuesday December 1, and arrived three days later clocking a marching time of 33 hours and 30 minutes, covering a distance of 118 miles.

Not to be outdone by the ROTC-trained Strayer, Point man Wolverton was given permission to transport 3/506 by train to Atlanta and from there make the journey (estimated to be around 136 miles) to Benning on foot. The idea was to smash the Japanese Army distance-marching record and in doing so generate extra publicity for the 506th PIR, who were still an independent unit looking for a home. Diminutive and bullish, Wolverton was from Elkins, West Virginia and had a subtle sense of humor. At times, he could be a man of few words but when he did talk, whether questioning or responding, it was clear, precise and very much to the point. Captain Harold Hank Hannah and Regimental Headquarters Company joined 3rd Battalion, along with the rest of the medics giving a total head count of just over 700 men.

For the majority of the march the weather was misty, cold and wet. The battalion group, wearing coveralls and helmets and carrying weapons, full packs and three days’ rations, ploughed through driving rain singing cadence songs and popular tunes.

3rd Squad made a deal to go all the way. Nobody complained, we just got on with it. What we as a battalion were attempting was unprecedented in US military history and the press, both local and national, took a deep interest. The average rifleman carried around 60lbs. But for those like myself, Joe and Don who were hauling heavier crew-served weapons, plus our M1s, we had to rotate the gun and tripod constantly just to keep up. After stopping for the night, we had a whip round and sent one of the boys across the road to a grocery store for a couple of bottles of cheap whiskey. Gathering around our shelter halves we toasted each other and then got quietly oiled before hitting the sack.

Despite regular 10-minute breaks the rest of the journey was grueling, and every morning it took a good couple of miles to get going again.

Dozens fell out along the way suffering from blisters but were quickly patched up by the medics. The battalion spent four days on the road with Bob Wolverton leading and setting the pace. Due to badly swollen feet, the major had been forced to remove his boots and continue wearing three pairs of socks.

It was then that we began to realize just what a truly inspirational leader Wolverton

Reviews for Airborne

[libstaff2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.25-3.5 StarsA detailed biography of Ed Shames during WWII. If you haven't read many E Company or 101st Airborne histories, then this book is an excellent start. The chronological descriptions are very thorough. At times, the writing is a bit technical or dry, but there are some good mini stories mixed in here and there. It's interesting to see where Ed Shames' story merged with the popular ones known throughout the world, but nice when it splits off to something new as well. There are some great photos included and a good sources list (primary and secondary) at the end which is perfect for further reading.Net Galley Feedback